


Spikesicle

by EntreNous



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Crack, Holidays, M/M, Ridiculous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-19
Updated: 2004-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-26 11:41:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/650155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EntreNous/pseuds/EntreNous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The middle of December, and it’s unexpectedly cooooold in Sunnydale!!  Brrr!  So Spike phones Giles and the girls for help with a wintry kind of problem.  Pure silliness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spikesicle

“Happy Holidays from The Magic Box. Rupert Giles speaking.”

“Watcher! What’s the proper treatment for stripped tongue?”

“What are you . . . Wait. Did you say striped or stripped?”

“Stripped!”

“Stripped -- Spike, that is you, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“What do you mean by -- you’re having some sort of problem with your tongue?”

“S’not _my_ tongue.”

“Erm . . . perhaps we ought to begin again. If you could simply clarify what you’d like to know?”

“Tongue. Skin’s been stripped right off of it. What should happen next?”

“In the way of treatment, or --”

“Yeah! Can’t have him going around with a critically bruised tongue, now can we?”

“I’m sure I’ll regret asking, but whose tongue are we discussing?”

“Xander’s! I did say ‘he’. Who else would I call you about? How many men are there in this great gaggle of girls besides you, me and the boy? And I’m talking to _you_ , aren’t I?”

“Oh, well . . . I’m sure you realize that you weren’t at all clear.”

“Stupid gi. . . Fine. I’ve been terribly abstruse. I _do_ hope you’ll forgive me, Giles. But Xander’s tongue LACKS SKIN on parts of the top right now, and we’re just asking you to --”

“Good lord! His tongue has no skin?”

“Well, parts of it anyway. Looks like some demonic kind of candy cane -- red, then redder, then red, then… well, you get it. That’s what I’ve been trying to t--”

“Did this happen on patrol? Because if there was moonlight involved, there are a few very unpleasant rituals that involve -- wait! Was there some sort of confrontation with a tongue-snatching demon? With the Solstice coming up particularly, I imagine that a number of demons . . . And, yes, if memory serves, there are Gnarshen that attempt to --”

“Wasn’t a demon.”

“Oh. Well . . . ”

“You should just be glad we didn’t call you for help earlier.”

“Why? What happened earlier?”

“When his tongue was _stuck_. How else do you think the skin came right off of it? Are you daft?”

“Spike, I feel we are speaking at cross purposes here.”

“I’m not! I’ve been clear enough about the situation. I’ve told you what we want to know. Your not providing the answer is the problem!”

“Please do try to remain calm.”

“Bloody -- ”

“Look here! I cannot help you if you don’t provide me with sufficient facts about what occurred.”

“What, now you need a blow-by-blow description?”

“Spike -- ”

“All right, all right! But I’ll have you know that while you’re nosing around for private details, poor Xander is lying here with pain radiating from his damaged tongue!!!”

“Do you want me to hang up the phone?”

“Fine friend you are -- letting someone suffer because you’re too particular about the way people ask you for help. See if he gives you your Christmas present!”

“Now see here . . . ”

“Is anyone else there? Preferably someone with half a brain?”

_sounds of voices, phone twisting out of someone’s hand, and a high voice squeaking_

“Spike, what have you done to Xander? You better hope for your sake he’s okay, because it would really make my Christmas to scatter Spike-dust to the wind. So help me, if I find out that you’re somehow hurt Xander in any way, I’ll --”

_muffled sounds and then a voice saying firmly “Hand it over. Now!”_

“Spike? This is Willow.”

“Red. Happy Hanukah, by the bye.”

“Oh! Thanks, uh . . . Can I speak to Xander, please?”

“May I . . . ”

“Oh, good gravy -- _may_ I speak to Xander, Spike?”

“He can’t come to the phone right now. Tongue doesn’t work. No skin on’t.”

_sounds of phone covered over, hissed conversation in background_

“Okay, uh . . . Spike? I’m really sorry that Giles and Buffy weren’t helpful.”

_sounds of indignant exclamations, hands being slapped away, and a voice spitting out “quit it!”_

“ -- that they weren’t helpful, and I want to help, okay? This is me being helpful. If you could just tell me _how_ Xander’s tongue came to be, uh . . . ”

“Stripped of skin in places.”

“That’s right, Spike, stripped . . . ewwww! Okay! Recovered. Back. If you’d tell me, then I’ll help. And I won’t get mad, and I won’t let Buffy beat you up, and I won’t let Giles lecture you. All right? Just tell me.”

_sigh_

“Y’know about vamp temp?”

“Vamp . . . you mean how vampires aren’t 98.6 like humans?”

“Exactly. Shoulda asked for you first, Red. Much more reasonable than the watcher.”

“Um . . . thanks, I think. And to continue with the explaining, please?”

“Oh, yeah. Well, like you said, not warm-blooded at all, so when we’re in different temperatures, we adjust accordingly.”

“Okay. And this has to do with Xander’s tongue how -- never mind. Forget I said that . . . helping again! So you change temperatures . . .”

“Right.”

“Wow, that must make saunas really uncomfortable.”

“Does at that.”

“Hmm . . . and what about --”

“Well, you’ve probably looked out the window and figured out that it’s a frickin’ cold day outside.”

“Oh, okay. Back on topic. Um . . . right! ‘Tis the season and all that. Snow covering the ground and everything! It’s wild! Yeah, they’re saying on TV that Sunnydale hasn’t seen weather this cold since, uh the Christmas of 1948-- ”

“The point being, we were outside, in the snow, and my temperature . . . adjusted.”

“Um . . . so you were at about freezing point then?”

“Yes. Exactly.”

“Still not seeing the connections here, Spike.”

_sigh_

“I complained. Boy said he’d warm me up. End of story.”

“ ‘Boy said he’d’ . . . ”

“Being all warm-blooded and all? And above freezing point?”

“Uh . . . above fr-- oh my goodness! Then . . . Xander must have . . . oh, boy.”

“That’s what I said!”

“No, uh . . . okay, I think I’m starting to get the picture here. And I really need not to think about said picture! But I’ve got to figure out how to tell -- um, explain! Explain to Giles and Buffy how this incredibly complicated and non-physical stripping of Xander’s tongue occurred.”

“Damned if I can think of something besides ‘Well, the boy went down on his knees, he leaned in, undid my jeans, and took -- ’ ”

_muffled murmur in background_

“Hang on Red . . . What was that, pet?”

_dim sound of “tillim eyewuz eting neye cycle”_

_muffled sounds then “You were -- oh, good show, pet.”_

“Spike?”

“Red! Tell the watcher and the slayer the boy was eating an . . . erm . . . icicle . . .”

_sound of Spike covering phone, followed by dim noises of snickering_

“Spike, you and Xander owe me big time! Big time for this, because now I’ve got an image of the two of you . . . okay, I’ll explain everything about the ‘icicle’, and we’ll figure out how to deal with the frozen tongue-skin syndrome, okay?”

“Yeah . . .”

_more snickering in the background_

“Argh! Stop that laughing and . . . Spike, are you still there?”

“Know what, Red? I think we’re fine over here now. Yeah. Think he’s forgotten all about the pesky pain. Tell you what . . . I’ll get him to swallow some tablets to take the edge off, and put him straight to bed. Don’t worry about us. Just tell Giles and the slayer to piss off, yeah?”

“Okay, just . . . Spike, he shouldn’t, uh, eat any more . . . icicles or Popsicles, or **anything** like that for the next few days, okay?”

“Don’t you worry a bit. No more . . . well, not for a few days, anyway! Thanks for . . . well, thanks for nothing. I’ll take care of him proper. He won’t be the one eating anything of the sort, if you get my meaning.”

“Oh, boy.”

“Red, you just keep stealing all my lines.”


End file.
